Authors: Sherryl Jordan
Time of the Eagle (37 page)
That summer was a high time in my life. It would take another scroll to tell of all that we did, Ishtok and Iâto tell of our visits to the city, our wanderings through the houses of art, and Ishtok's awe at the statues and carvings there; of dinners at Taliesin's house with his wife and family; the nighttime performances of Navoran music in the huge city square; the evenings we walked around the path on the summit of the city walls,
our arms about each other, admiring the thousands of city lights below; to tell of our visits to the Citadel, of the hours we spent marveling at the huge murals being restored after years of neglect, and the overgrown gardens and vineyards being replanted, and helping Salverion and Sheel Chandra in the vast libraries, radiant even in their dust; to tell of happy times with my Navoran family, on my grandmother's farm; the jubilant feasts in our big Shinali house, the grand festivities before the Hena tribes and Mudiwar's people went back to their own territories, with promises to visit soon; and the days we rode to the edges of the Shinali lands and saw the Nyranjeera Lakes and after that the sea thundering on the western beaches.
It was a glorious and peaceful time, a time of heart's-ease, of inner healing, for all of my people, and for Navora. Only one thing was wanting, in that time, for me; I longed to be working again, to be healing, using the skills I had learned from my mother, and at Ravinath. My mother was the tribe's healer, and though I helped her when our skills were needed, there was not work enough for us both. Some days I went to the Navoran Infirmary and helped the physicians there. But always when I passed the road to the Citadel, and thought of the Masters there, of that great place still being restored, my heart ached.
The trees put on their fiery autumn garments, and the winter winds came, and in the warm Shinali house Ishtok and I lay at night in our furs and loved, and listened to the river-song and the wind as it sighed across the land.
The first snows came, and we had a visitor.
Afar off he was, when we first saw him, his swift Navoran
chariot bounding over the snow-powdered lands, and glinting in the winter sun. Ishtok and I ran out to meet him, though we could not see at first who he was, for he wore a long fur cloak and hood over his Citadel robes. The chariot stopped beside us, and he got down, and we threw our arms around him.
“Salverion!” I cried. “What a wonderful surprise! Have you finished all your work now, at the Citadel?”
“Well, it's restored, if that's what you mean,” he said, smiling broadly. “But the real workâthat of teaching againâis about to begin.” He pulled off his winter gloves and gave them to the driver, still waiting in the chariot. “Go on, please, and wait outside the Shinali house,” he said to the man. “I'll walk the rest of the way, with my two friends.”
The man shook the reins, and the black horse trotted on, taking its chariot with the seven silver stars blazing on the sides. When it stopped outside our house children ran out to see it, and the driver lifted some of them up, to take them for a ride. Their excited shrieks were loud in the still air. Beyond the thatched roof with its thin column of smoke, beyond the sheep in their stone shelters, the mountains were white and blue, their shadowed valleys the same azure as the sky.
“I hope you'll stay and feast with us tonight,” I said, tucking my arm about Salverion's. Ishtok walked on his other side, grinning with pleasure, for he, too, had grown to love the Grand Master.
“I'd like that very much,” said Salverion. “Actually, I've come on business. I've brought something for each of you.” He stopped walking, and gently withdrew his arms from ours, and reached into a scarlet bag he carried over his shoulder. He took out two
scrolls, each carefully rolled and tied with a ribbon, one green for healing, one silver for the arts, each sealed with blue wax.
“I want you both to think very carefully about what is written in those,” he said.
Before I opened mine, just seeing Salverion's face, the fondness in his eyes, I knew what it was. I wept, could hardly speak for joy. I put my arms about his neck and kissed his cheek.
“I don't need time to think,” I said.
Salverion smiled, his gray eyes twinkling. “I seem to remember your father saying those exact words,” he said. “But you have a husband to consider, Avala. He may not be willing to live at the Citadel with you, and do carvings and sculpture for the next seven yearsâeven if you can visit your home here whenever you wish.”
I looked at Ishtok. Struggling to contain his happiness, he said huskily, in Navoran, “Carving I would love to do. And my home, it is always where Avala is.”
Smiling, Salverion put his arms about our shoulders, and we began walking to the Shinali house. My mother stood on the snowy ground outside, waiting for us, knowing in her heart why Salverion had come, her face serene and glad.
Beyond her, between the dwelling and the sacred mountain, the wheels of the Citadel chariot left a pattern in the snow of looped and interlacing lines, like the symbol for Shinali dreams; and the voices of the children rang, full of joy, across the white and radiant land.
The End
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Photo credit Tulloch Photography, Tauranga, New Zealand
SHERRYL JORDAN
is the author of several critically acclaimed and award-winning books, including
THE HUNTING OF THE LAST DRAGON
, an ALA Best Book for Young Adults;
THE RAGING QUIET
, a
School Library Journal
Best Book and an ALA Top Ten Best Book for Young Adults;
WOLF-WOMAN
, an ALA Best Book for Young Adults;
WINTER OF FIRE
, an ALA/YALSA Recommended Book for the Reluctant Reader and an ALA Best Book for Young Adults; and
THE JUNIPER GAME
, a New York Public Library Book for the Teen Age. She is also the author of
SECRET SACRAMENT
, the prequel to
TIME OF THE EAGLE
and an ALA Best Book for Young Adults. She lives in Tauranga, New Zealand.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at
hc.com
.
Cover art © 2007 by Douglas Mullen
Cover design by Joel Tippie
Eos is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
TIME OF THE EAGLE
. Text and illustrations copyright © 2007 by Sherryl Jordan. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jordan, Sherryl.
   Â
Time of the eagle / Sherryl Jordan.â 1st ed.
       Â
p.
   Â
cm.
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Sequel to: Secret sacrament.
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Summary: Avala, the daughter of Gabriel Eshban Vala, dreams of becoming a healer like her mother, but she is instead destined to bring about the Time of the Eagle, in which tribes hunted by the Navoran dictator will unite and win their freedom.
   Â
ISBN-10: 0-06-059554-X (trade bdg.)
   Â
ISBN-13: 978-0-06-059554-8 (trade bdg.)
   Â
ISBN-10: 0-06-059555-8 (lib. bdg.)
   Â
ISBN-13: 978-0-06-059555-5 (lib. bdg.)
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EPub Edition © July 2016 ISBN 9780062459794
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[1. Fantasy.] I. Title.
| PZ7.J7684Tim   2007 |                                                                                    2006019371 |
| [Fic]âdc22 |
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FIRST EDITION
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